


What makes a house a home?

by StoriesOfImagination



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Christmas, Disgustingly heartwarming fluff, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hanukkah, Prompt Fic, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesOfImagination/pseuds/StoriesOfImagination
Summary: Tommy spends most of his time at Felicity's apartment. When Felicity realizes that he doesn't know how to make his condo into a cozy home, she offers to help. Pretty soon Tommy concludes that it's not the throw blankets which warm his heart.A Prompt from Abbie of "Cozy/Flommy"
Relationships: Tommy Merlyn/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 17
Kudos: 93





	What makes a house a home?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abbie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/gifts).



Felicity didn’t fully understand - not for the first year or so of her friendship with Tommy - why he preferred to come to her apartment rather than his own.

He had a stylish condo on the “nice” side of town, while she had a small but well-maintained apartment which edged the rougher part of the Glades.

He insisted on coming over though. Even though it meant taking three different subway trains and a short walk. (Felicity absolutely forbade him from parking his car in her neighborhood no matter how good his insurance was.)

When he walked through her door and hung up his jacket it was as though he shed more than just a layer of clothing. His limbs were looser and his face relaxed. 

Some nights Tommy would make a beeline for the small wooden table in her kitchen and a hot cup of tea. Other nights he would flop onto her couch - a worn hand-me-down covered in throw blankets and soft cushions.

One cold November weekend her apartment building was overhauling a broken furnace and Tommy invited Felicity to use his guest bedroom. 

His condo was tastefully decorated and furnished with leather couches and high-end kitchen appliances. There were personal touches too - photos of his Mom, Oliver, and Thea; some framed photographs and artwork.

But despite the high thread count of her bedding and the spa-like feel of the en-suite bathroom, despite the gas powered fireplace and the working furnace, there was something impersonal and cold which lingered.

Felicity considered what Tommy had told her about his upbringing and his family home. She remembered the few stories she had coaxed from him over takeout and bottles of wine. 

The Merlyn family home which had its heart hollowed out when Rebecca Merlyn bled out in a gutter. The shadows in the house had grown deeper along with the shadows in Malcolm’s eyes. And when Malcolm left for the League and left Tommy in the care of a Nanny and Housekeeper, the house became a very well appointed tomb. A place absent of life and light; a place for the dead to rest.

Just as a plant grows twisting towards the sun, Tommy had fled whenever possible to the Queens’ house. Although their house was austere and could be drafty in the winter, it was also a home to a family who loved each other - even when love didn’t come easily.

But growing up in strained families and old mansions was no education for learning how to create a home of his own.

Felicity’s upbringing had been his polar opposite - desperately poor and full of love and support.

Her Mom had worked hard to keep a roof over their heads and was rarely around as much as Felicity would have liked as a child, and yet she never felt alone or abandoned. Donna loved fiercely and completely - so much so that even during the busy seasons on the Strip, when Felicity wouldn’t see her Mom for days at a time, her presence was still a tangible thing in their tiny rental.

They fought as families do - increasingly so when Felicity was a teenager flexing her independence, and yet, the next morning there would always be a bagged lunch waiting for her to take to school with a note scrawled on it- “ _I love you, Mom xxx_ ”

Felicity thought about the ways her Mother had turned each shabby apartment into a warm and loving home. Looking around her own apartment, she noted the warm colors, the mismatched furniture accessorized with covers and throws to hide garish patterns or threadbare patches.

She realized that she had done it instinctively, learned from her mother’s example. Donna had made their home a soft place to land from the storms of life. She had taken Felicity to tag sales and post-seasonal store blowouts, taught her which stores accepted competitors’ coupons and which dollar stores had surprisingly good merchandise.

Happening upon curbside discards was like Hanukkah in July. The Smoak ladies became experts in assessing the level of wear and tear of furniture, of knowing what could be cleaned or repaired, knowing how to neutralize the smell of smoke, and crucially, knowing how to recognize a bad bet (which included projects of a more human variety).

It was something he could learn, she realized. Tommy had an excellent sense of style, he just didn’t know how to channel it so that a residence became a home. 

Felicity agonized over how to broach it with him. They had been friends for nearly two years now, but they had only really been close the last 8 months or so. Nothing like the bond between him and Oliver of course, no-one could ever hope to surmount that. But she and Tommy were in a comfortable place, one of honesty and safety, of shared movies and shared complaining, of food truck dinners and nights on the comms. 

Neither wanting to offend him nor patronize him, and loathe to upset the balance between them, she waited for him to provide an opening.

It finally came one quiet night while they were settling into her couch for a Netflix binge. Tommy had toed off his shoes and wriggled himself into the cushions of the couch as though he was preparing to hibernate.

“Comfy?” Felicity asked with a smile tugging at her lips.

“Very,” grinned Tommy.

“Why do you like my apartment so much?” she blurted out. 

Seeing his expression, she hastily added, “I don’t mean… I just… you have this amazing place in the part of town that our masked friends don’t have to visit _quite_ so often, and… you’re never there.”

He shifted uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes. She tried again. “I’m not trying to get rid of you; I love hanging out with you and you _know_ you’re always welcome. I’m just… curious is all.”

The tightness around his eyes softened, as did the answering tightness in her chest. Tommy nodded and took a sip of wine. His eyes travelled around the room thoughtfully and came to rest on Felicity. His expression was one of seeing something for the first time and she found it difficult to hold his gaze.

“I’m not sure why,” he confessed. “But I feel at home here - more than my own apartment. There’s something warm and inviting…” He trailed off. “I guess ‘Cozy’ isn’t really my forte. ‘Stylish’ I can do, ‘Well Appointed’, ‘Tasteful’, sure, but this…” Tommy waved his hand in an encompassing gesture at her furnishings. “I’ve never had the knack for it.”

“We could do it together…?” said Felicity hesitantly. “I could show you how.”

Tommy’s face lit up in a wide smile.

****

On their next free weekend, Felicity took Tommy to a local indoor flea market. It had been a small-ish mall many years ago. But as it died off and the businesses left, someone saw potential in the shell which remained. They knocked through the walls and re-branded it as a permanent flea market. It was the type of transformation which became more common after the Glades fell.

They wandered through the aisles; Felicity showing Tommy different styles of furniture, different eras of design. He thoroughly charmed the stall owners with his questions and interest in the history and design of specific pieces. She discreetly showed him how to check for bed bugs and structural flaws.

They took photos and measurements of a dining set, and bought outright a couple of overstuffed chairs and some side tables which they arranged to be delivered later. Another hour of browsing through clocks and sculptures, rugs and lamp stands, and they finally walked quickly past some creepy looking china dolls and out into the crisp air and waning sunlight.

Tommy offered Felicity his arm and she took it with a smile. 

“Thanks for today,” he said, squeezing her arm warmly. 

“Anytime,” she answered. 

His hair was flopping messily over his forehead and Felicity’s stomach did a little flip-flop of its own as she looked up at him.

****

November rolled into December and they began to decorate for Hanukkah and Christmas. 

Tommy insisted that all the lights on his Christmas tree be blue in honor of Hanukkah. Felicity had teased him for his earnestness, but the laughter died on her lips when she saw his face redden in a blush. 

She showed Tommy a YouTube tutorial on how to re-purpose the discarded lower branches of his tree into a garland for his mantelpiece. They worked together to fasten the branches with wire, and twined ribbon in and out of the needles. 

“Hmmm.” 

Tommy and Felicity stood side by side assessing their efforts. He scratched absently at his scruff. 

“Pine cones,” he said finally, with a nod. “It needs pine cones. I’ve seen some in stores.”

He turned to see an expression of mock disgust and horror on Felicity’s face.

“Pine cones ...in _stores_?! Have I taught you nothing?”

There was much teasing back and forth as they put on their coats.

“Don’t forget your hat, Brat,” Tommy grinned as he pulled Felicity’s winter hat over her curls.

“Don’t forget your scarf, Trust Fund,” Felicity retorted, winding Tommy’s scarf around his face like a mummy’s bandages.

An hour later they were crunching through frozen leaves in a nearby forest, following a worn hiking trail. They stepped off the path from time to time to search under pine trees for their quarry. 

Their canvas bag gradually filled as they made their way through the softly creaking trees. Tommy took Felicity’s hand to help her over a fallen tree and only surrendered it with a small squeeze when they reached the end of the trail at the parking area. 

He folded himself into her small car while she cranked up the heat and defrosted the windows. It was strange how they could sit next to each other night after night on each other’s sofas and barely even notice how close they were. Yet here, in her car, separated by both the gear shift and emergency brake, it seemed overwhelmingly intimate. 

Felicity busied herself with programming the GPS and adjusting her seat belt, trying her damnedest to ignore the smell of pine sap and aftershave, and Tommy’s inescapable _presence_.

Back at his condo, they sorted their bounty and doctored some with spray snow and glitter from the dollar store. When the pine cones had been positioned, and re-positioned, they stepped back to admire the final effect. Tommy’s arm fell automatically across her shoulders and Felicity’s hand wrapped absent-mindedly around his waist.

“It’s perfect,” breathed Felicity.

“Nearly,” said Tommy. “Wait here,” he said with a wink before disappearing into his bedroom and reappearing with a polished wooden box. 

His confidence seemed to evaporate as soon as he placed it on the coffee table. He smiled shyly and held out his hand to Felicity, wordlessly asking her to sit with him. 

“I was wondering if… well, if it would be okay…?”

He undid the latch and opened the box to reveal a silver Menorah cushioned on silk. “Can we add this?” He asked, studying Felicity’s reaction nervously.

She reached out and picked it up from the box, a smile teasing her lips and glowing softly in her eyes. “It’s beautiful, Tommy. Where did you find it?”

“I… um, may have texted a mutual friend for advice.”

“A mutual-- wait the only-- my Mom! You texted my Mom?”

“Happy Hanukkah…?”

Felicity snorted “She’s gonna get so much mileage out of this.” She stood up and walked around the table. “It doesn’t go over the fireplace, it belongs in a window.” She paused, frowning, “Although, you’re not Jewish so it doesn’t really--”

“No,” interrupted Tommy. “It’s for you, if you want-- I’d like to do it right. Please…” He took her hand. “Can you show me?”

She looked at his expression and then down at his hand and nodded. 

Felicity directed him to move a small table over to one of the windows which overlooked the street below. She placed the Menorah carefully on the table and put a candle in the far right hole.

“It’s the first night of Hanukkah today,” she said thoughtfully.

“I know,” said Tommy, handing her the shamash candle.

Looking out of the window, she saw the sun dipping behind the building across the street. “Do you have a light?”

Tommy struck a match and held it steady as Felicity lit the shamash. Cupping the flame, she turned towards the Menorah and began to sing. 

They stood bathed in the light of the candle while the shadows of the street changed from grey to purple with the setting sun. It was as though they were cocooned in their own ball of light while the world faded away.

Felicity finished the blessings and lit the candle. Placing the shamash in its home in the center, she took a half step backwards straight into Tommy.

He cupped her shoulders with his hands and she reflexively tilted her head back to rest it against his chest.

“This is beautiful. Thank you for doing this, Tommy.”

“It is,” agreed Tommy. 

He dropped a kiss into her hair. “Thank you for sharing it with me, Felicity.”

She looked up to say “you’re welcome” but her breath caught at his gaze. His eyes glittered with a soft intensity before glancing at her mouth. He slowly moved to kiss her, giving her time to back away. She leant up to meet him and they kissed, soft and sweet.

His hands moved to her waist, her hair, tilting his face to deepen the kiss. Hers answered in kind, brushing over his scruff and burying her fingers in his hair. They parted with a sigh, and he placed a peck on her nose before leading her over to the couch.

When they were suitably snuggled under a cozy throw and in each other’s arms, Felicity hummed happily. Tommy kissed her and rested his forehead against hers.

“You know, I finally think I figured it out?” He said, smiling.

“Oh yeah?” She replied.

“Making this place as warm and cozy as your apartment wasn’t about the tchotchkes - although that certainly helped. It was you…” He kissed her mouth.

“It was always you…” He kissed her cheek.

“It _will always_ be you…” He kissed her neck.

And for a time, the cold and slushy streets of Starling faded away while they enjoyed the warmth and safety of each other’s arms.


End file.
